


of blue and bronze and broomsticks

by shotofvanilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1822111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotofvanilla/pseuds/shotofvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Sam were sitting beside him, instead of out on the field as well, Dean would still be cheering just as loudly for the Ravenclaw team as its seeker pulls off a tremendous dive across the field. </p><p>Though that may have something to do with who the Ravenclaw seeker is, if he's being completely honest with himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [tumblr](http://youreyesarelikestarlightnow.tumblr.com/post/89460125087/finally-finally-finally-ohmygod-i-wrote).

The pitch overflows with the colors of royal blue and bronze, emerald green and silver. Crammed in the last row of the section, Dean can't help but feel slightly out of place in his Hufflepuff robes and scarf, even as he waves a Ravenclaw flag and tries to keep an eye on the spot of blue he knows is his brother out there.  In the days and hours leading up to the big game he had been following Sam around as best he could, making sure he was eating okay and sleeping at reasonable times and keeping up with school work in between practices. He even trespassed into the Ravenclaw tower a few times, though he wouldn't necessarily call it trespassing when all he had to do was answer the doorknocker's questions.

Out on the field, he watches Sam expertly pass the speck of red that is the quaffle, easily keeping up with the sixth- and seventh-years, and cheers loudly at the resounding bell that signals another goal past the Slytherin keeper. Sam and the other chasers high five each other in a quick celebration before quickly turning their brooms to chase down the bright red ball again, and tension coiled in Dean's chest starts to ease. Sam can hold his own out there, out there on an enchanted broomstick hundreds of feet in the air, playing some incredibly dangerous game that somehow passes as entertainment around here. He's absolutely crazy, but he's alright.

Over the enchanted sound system, or however the hell Quidditch games are commentated on, Dean can hear his friend, Jo, narrating and giving the play-by-play, though he has no idea how she manages to keep up with the bludgers whizzing around the stadium and the quaffle changing hands every few seconds, all while accurately keeping score at the same time. The crowd hangs onto her every word, most of them unable to follow the fast-paced game themselves. So when she interrupts herself to excitedly announce, "Hang on—it appears that both seekers have spotted the snitch!" everyone in the stands seems to take a collective gasp, leaning forward in their seats to try and find that tiny glint of gold as well.

Dean leans forward as well, eyes flitting across the field trying to spot the snitch. He can't deny it; even though Quidditch is so unbelievably dangerous and he wouldn't be caught dead trying to mount a broomstick after disastrous attempts in first year flying class, he can't help but get caught up in the excitement of it. If Sam were sitting beside him, instead of out on the field as well, he would still be cheering just as loudly for the Ravenclaw team as its seeker pulls off a tremendous dive across the field.

Though that may have something to do with who the Ravenclaw seeker is, if he's being completely honest with himself.

Dean sometimes has a bad habit of zoning out whenever Sam starts chatting about Quidditch, the rules and countless exceptions surrounding the game sounding incredibly complicated and dense most of the time. A few points always help to pull him back into focus, however, a major one being if it seems that practices are weighing Sam and his studies down. The other major one, and Sam definitely knows it, the little shit, is the Ravenclaw team captain and seeker, Castiel Novak.

Hogwarts is a huge school, and being in different houses easily threw them into different social circles and friend groups. In their years together Dean has shared a truly disappointing number of classes with Castiel and, prior to Sam joining the Quidditch team, they probably exchanged no more than two sentences that weren't about a potion they needed to brew or a particularly tricky charm they needed to learn for the next class. But between classes, in the hallways, during meals, while hanging out in the library, Dean just...notices Castiel. The way his hair fell in his eyes (blue eyes, _so_ blue Dean nearly gasped the first time he saw them when they were partners in Potions), the way he pushed his glasses up his nose when they slid down during class, the way he sometimes stuck his tongue out while annotating his textbooks...

He's doing much more than just noticing now, as is everyone else in the stadium, including a few of the players on the field. A blur of blue streaking down the pitch, Cas chases down that invisible gold speck, the Slytherin seeker barely keeping up with him. Behind the two of them are both bludgers, hurtling towards the pair of seekers at break neck speeds.

Since Cas joined the Quidditch team when he was thirteen, three years ago, Ravenclaw's lost a grand total of two matches, the first when Cas fell off his broomstick and was wrapped up in the infirmary during his fourth year, and the second when he came down with the flu at the start of last year's season. His team's won almost all of their games within the first 15 minutes, only a handful of them stretching beyond the 30 minute mark, and practically everyone in the school expects Ravenclaw to carry the Quidditch cup for a fourth and probably fifth consecutive year.

But that doesn't mean Cas can still out fly a speeding bludger, let alone two.

Dean's heart starts to thud somewhere in his throat as he leans out of his seat. The bludgers flank the two seekers, gaining on them every second, and Cas, just an inch ahead or so, stretches out his arm, straining impossibly. At the last second he pulls his broom upward, and slices through the air nearly perpendicular to the ground, just as one of the bludgers rams itself into the arm of the Slytherin seeker and knocks him from his broom. The other bludger continues in its path into the waiting bat of one of the Ravenclaw beaters, who sends it far to the other side of the field.

Cas stops in his steep climb and raises a clenched fist in the air, where the slightest shimmering of wings and glitter of gold indicate the captured snitch. All around Dean Ravenclaws erupt into ear-deafening cheers, a few celebratory and somewhat-illicit fireworks sprouting from the wands of particularly excited fans. Dean yells right along with them, cupping his hands to shout Sammy's name as loud as he can.

And if he throws in Cas' name a few times, no one around can tell.

*~*~*

As the crowds start to disperse from the stands, Dean makes his way down towards the Ravenclaw locker rooms at the bottom of the pitch. Sam is easy to spot, the shortest member of the team in still too-big and slightly sweaty robes Dean completely ignore as he barrels forward to hug his brother. They both laugh a little breathlessly, neither of them speaking until Dean pulls away and says, "Congrats, Sammy."

Sam's smile stretches so large it seems to splits his face in half. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean opens his mouth to say more, to talk about a particularly spectacular catch Sam had made almost completely upside down on his broom (Dean nearly fell out of his seat in fear) when someone coughs softly behind him and the words get stuck in his throat as he turns around.

"Hello, Dean."

Cas. Cas standing behind him, broom in hand and framed by the afternoon sun leaking in from the open door between the pitch and the locker room, his hair windswept and stuck out in all different angles, and his cheeks still pink from flying.

Dean can't get over how his Quidditch robes make his eyes bluer than before. He stutters a little over his words. "H-hey, Cas." Behind him, Sam snickers and Dean resists the urge to elbow him in the side. "Uh, great game today. That was an amazing catch you had there at the end."

A nervous little grin finds its way onto Cas' face. "Thank you." He passes a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, and looks down at the ground for a moment. "I wanted to invite you to the after party tonight, in the Ravenclaw common room. I know they're technically just for house members, but I figured that because you and Sam are siblings, you would like to join in the celebration? A few people from the other houses are going too, and I believe my brother’s been hinting at smuggling some firewhiskey in…"

Firewhiskey, Sam, and Cas? "I'll be there," Dean promises.

Cas' smile grows nearly as large as Sam's, too big for his face. "I'll see you later then." He starts walking past them into the locker rooms, but stops first to put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Great job out there, Sam. I'm looking forward to having you on the team for the rest of the season."

Sam offers a short, genuine, "Thanks, Cas," and Cas nods and moves on, but before he can get too far away Dean calls out, "You aren't going to the give me the password in?"

"Dean, in the past few weeks I think I've seen you in the Ravenclaw tower more than some members of my own house. You know how to get in," Cas answers, laughing a little.

"And if I don't get in?"

"Then I'll be surprised and disappointed, so don't do that."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Cas." 

Cas smiles and nods, and then waves goodbye before turning the corner towards the boy's showers. Dean turns back to see a smug twelve year-old grinning at him.

"Oh shut up and hit the showers, Sammy," he mutters, giving his brother a shove.

"Didn't say anything, Dean."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's, um, I also have a cru—feelings for someone." No matter how he says it, the words feel stupid coming out of his mouth, like he's a 7 year-old on a playground. "It's kind of a secret, but Charlie thinks it would be a good idea to, I don't know, make a move tonight, I guess."
> 
> "Oh," Cas intones softly, inhaling sharply.

_What comes unbeckoned by night and disappears without dismissal by day?_

Dean stands alone at end of the spiral staircase just at the top of Ravenclaw tower. Beyond the bronze eagle knocker on the door, he can hear laughter, cheering, and a worrying number of small explosions, a tell-tale sign that someone has likely opened a Weasley prank box or the like. He smiles and pulls his jacket tighter around his shoulders to keep out the draft.

Beyond that door Sammy waits for him, probably to pester him about stealing sips of firewhiskey, as does another person, hopefully. A person with bright eyes, eyes that somehow keep focus and attention and even wonder during Muggle Studies and sparkle in midday sunlight after Quidditch practices like...like...

"Stars," Dean mutters, unable to keep a smile off his face. "Or dreams."

"Thinking about someone?" the doorknocker asks as the door cracks open slowly.

Dean refuses to deign the bodiless eagle with a response, swinging the door open wider and entering the common room.

Outside the setting sun casts just enough light in through the giant windows to keep the whole room lit, though the fireplace still houses a sizable and multicolor flame that casts brightly colored light on the walls and the drapes suspended from the star-painted ceiling. Inside someone is playing the Weird Sisters from...somewhere, loud enough to make it sound almost like a live concert (likely with a very tricky charm to keep it from spilling out into the corridors). Dean picks up a bottle of firewhiskey from one of the tables, courtesy of Cas' brother Gabe surely, and heads deeper into the party.

From the main mass of people spilling in through the door, smaller groups have fractured off, clustered around the wide circular room. Some first and second years hang around the fireplace, trading Chocolate Frog cards while piecing through a Zonko's bag probably left on the table by a forgetful third or fourth year. Dean even passes a group of seventh years playing an oddly modified version of beer pong in the corner with cups of firewhiskey and the occasional puff of questionable smelling smoke (teenagers, even magical ones, never really change, it seems).  Most of the players from the Ravenclaw team, even the alternates, have small crowds surrounding them, excitedly talking about the game and sharing stories of other Quidditch triumphs, though none of them have a particular blue eyed seeker. He passes Sam sitting at one of the tables playing wizard's chess, of all things, and watches as one of Sam's knights violently beheads a rook before smiling, ruffling his hair, and moving on.

His palms sweat and the room feels much too warm against his jacket. He takes up residence in one of the tower's many windowseats, stretching his legs out and leaning against the book shelves behind him. He holds the neck of the firewhiskey bottle loosely in his fingers and takes a sip every now and then while he makes small talk with some of his friends who pass by. It tastes about a thousand times better than the beer back home, and the burn, though initially uncomfortable, turns pleasantly warm about halfway through.

"Mind if I sit?"

Dean looks up and sees a mess of red hair and brown eyes. "Hey, Charlie," he says, pulling his legs closer to his chest to make room on the seat.

"Hey, Dean." Charlie leans her elbows against her knees, her own bottle of firewhiskey in hand, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. She takes a large swig from the bottle and sighs softly.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just...you know," she shrugs and takes another sip of firewhiskey.

Dean only raises an eyebrow at her.

Charlie chuckles a little at the look on his face and then nods her head towards one of the groups across the room, where Dean can see the Ravenclaw keeper, a pretty seventh year with copper curls pulled away from her face, standing surrounded by a group of her friends. "Gilda Arkhmoor," Charlie says by way of explanation.

"You mean the chick you've been half in love with for over a year?"

"Yeah. She's graduating this year so I just—"

"You should go talk to her."

Charlie scoffs, but Dean presses on. "I'm serious. She'll be leaving, so this is your chance. Aren't you Gryffindors supposed to be all about this bravery thing?"

"Not feeling it today, Dean."

"Firewhiskey's supposed to help with that too, you know."

"Is that why you're drinking it?" 

"I—no."

Charlie's smile grows wide and smug and Dean suddenly feels the urge to kick her off the windowseat. 

"Where is Mr. Blue Eyes anyway? Sam told me he invited you specifically," she asks, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"'Dunno."

"He'll turn up. This whole party is practically for him."

"I guess," Dean shrugs and brings the bottle to his lips again.

They sit and a silence stretches on between them, until Charlie takes a deep breath and says, "Look, you know what? Both of us have to figure out this shit. I'll talk to Gilda if you figure out—"

"I hope I'm not interrupting something?"

Dean looks up and the first thing he sees is a pair of blue eyes behind a pair of simple metal frame glasses and _shit_ it's gotta be the firelight because no one's eyes actually freaking sparkle like that. Somehow Cas' hair still looks windswept even after his shower.

"Not at all!" Charlie says brightly, teeth gleaming. "I was actually just leaving. Good luck, Dean." She winks and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively before turning away. Dean watches in amusement as she takes another large sip of firewhiskey, flips her hair over her shoulder, and all but saunters over towards Gilda.

Cas, meanwhile, goes to sit in Charlie's vacated seat. "What was that about?"

Dean shakes his head, still smiling faintly. "Nothing." When Cas looks unconvinced he adds, "Charlie has a little bit of a crush on your teammate over there"—if sighing dreamily towards the Ravenclaw table every mealtime and constantly pining in the library could be categorized as just "a little bit"—"and she's just...nervous about talking to her."

"She doesn't have to be."

"What do you mean?" Dean asks.

Cas smiles and bumps his shoulder against Dean's, jostling his glass of what looks to be butterbeer. "I have it on good authority the feelings are mutual."

Across the room Gilda grabs Charlie's arm in support as she doubles over in laughter at something. Dean tries to send over an encouraging smile, but Charlie continues to look equal parts elated and terrified, so it must go largely unnoticed.

"Imagine that," he murmurs.

Cas hums in agreement. "Why did she say 'good luck' to you before she left?"

A warm blush rises to Dean's cheeks, but it's just the firewhiskey, of course. "You're nosy sometimes, you know?"

"I prefer to say curious. Inquisitive."

"How very Ravenclaw of you."

"You're avoiding the question," Cas accuses lightheartedly. He then coughs and looks down, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, you don't have to answer if you don't want to. I was just..."

"Curious," Dean supplies.

"A little," Cas admits, nodding slightly.

Dean shifts in his seat and turns so that, rather than leaning against the bookshelf, he's sitting with his back towards the window. He puts his bottle down on the floor between his feet. "There's, um, I also have a cru—feelings for someone." No matter how he says it, the words feel stupid coming out of his mouth, like he's a 7 year-old on a playground. "It's kind of a secret, but Charlie thinks it would be a good idea to, I don't know, make a move tonight, I guess."

"Oh," Cas intones softly, inhaling sharply. His body turns stiff beside Dean's. "That's um"—he swallows visibly—"That's great, for you. And for them. They’ll be lucky to have you, and, uh, you’ll be very happy together." Dean looks up from the floor to see Cas carefully putting his now-empty glass down on the windowseat and shifting away. "If you'll excuse me a minute."

"Wait, where are you going?" he asks. His hand comes up to catch Cas', stopping him midstep.

"I just—I figured you'd want to go find and talk to her. Or him. Or whoever." Cas refuses to meet Dean's eyes, training them steadily on the floor. His hand slips from Dean's grip. "I should—I have to go."

"I already did."

Cas' head snaps up, eyes crinkled in confusion. “Did what?”

“Told them”

"I thought you said it was a secret?"

At some point, Dean finds Cas' hand again and gives it a squeeze, before taking a steeling breath for himself. "It is, or was. I think I just told them." He stares at Cas pointedly.

His head tilts to the side in further puzzlement. "Did it not go well?” Cas asks slowly. “I don't really understand..." he starts to say.

"Look, it's you, okay?" Dean blurts out.

Cas' mouth actually drops open for a second. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

Dean's harbored his somewhat enormous crush on Castiel for the better part of two years, since the first time they were paired up together for Potions in the middle of their fourth year and Dean was met with the full force of the blue eyes aimed directly at him. It was the first time they really _talked_ to each other, if only for a class period, and Cas spoke in strangely formal sentences and didn't understand almost any of Dean's jokes or witty remarks, but there was one that he _did_ and when he laughed, so much so he bent over breathlessly, Dean nearly set himself on fire. According to Sam, the little shit lying liar who lies, Dean pines whenever Cas so much as does anything, whether it's practicing fancy tricks on his broomstick or repeating incantations in a low voice (low and gravely and when did that happen?) for Charms. And while that is a complete over-exaggeration, obviously, confessing his feelings would hopefully harbor more than an—

 _Oh._ Cas surges forward and Dean nearly topples backwards onto the windowseat, barely catching himself in time, and then Cas starts _hugging_ him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Dean finds his arms wrapped around Cas' waist, his nose buried in messy brown hair and laughing despite the air knocked out of him.

Cas' mouth brushes against his ear for a split second, enough to cause shivers down his spine. "Can I kiss you?" he whispers.

Dean gets out, "Yeah, that'd be—" before he's cut off by a pair of slightly chapped lips on his. Their noses bump and their teeth clack together because of the sheer force of Cas' enthusiasm, but Dean brings a hand up to cup Cas' head gently and slowly even them out, his eyes sliding close as Cas follows his lead and presses his body even closer.

When they break apart for air, Dean can see Sam in his peripheral, smiling at them, but his attention is stolen by the way Cas' eyes sparkle like…

_Stars, or dreams._

He doesn’t have much time to admire the view before Cas’ mouth covers his again, but he also doesn’t really mind so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://youreyearelikestarlightnow.tumblr.com)


End file.
